To Relieve the Gloom
by Reih
Summary: It takes but a moment to change the course of a life. Sweeney reacts to a small thing and the result is the beginning of the rebirth of a man once thought dead by everyone...even himself. Sweeney/Lovett Not a suddenly-Barker-again fic -.-; Review please!
1. Gilley Flowers, Maybe

_Hello again, everyone. No, I'm not dead and I may finish (rather quickly and poorly) my other two fanfics but for now I'll focus on this one (mainly because my roommate is addicted to ST fanfics right now and will murder me in my sleep if I leave off on this fanfic the way I did on the last two (just kidding!)). Of course I don't own Sweeney Todd or sniffles any of the sexy actors in it... sigh_

To Relieve the Gloom

_Sweeney thinks of something else…_

_It takes but a moment to change the course of a life._

"Gilley flowers maybe, 'stead of daisies. I don't know though, what do you think?"

Sweeney drew his eyes reluctantly away from the shining steel of his razor long enough to give Mrs. Lovett a disinterested glance.

"Mrs. Lovett," he began only to be interrupted by the baker.

"Daisies would be nice though…to brighten up the room," she added absently. Her dark eyes reflected the grey light of the hellhole outside known as London. Todd felt himself being drawn into the shine of her eyes as powerfully as he was drawn into the shine of his blades. What had she been saying?

"Maybe-"

"Jonquils," Sweeney interrupted, still distracted by her silvery glint.

Mrs. Lovett gasped but tried to cover it with a sigh. Her face broke into a smile and she nodded.

"Right then. I'll just get some next time I've gone to market."

Why was she smiling so? He only answered a question…it wasn't as if he had agreed to marry her or anything. The woman did seem to have it bad…

"My Alfred hated flowers. Only one he ever let me keep was a mutated cranes-bill. Sad, that it was, Love."

Sweeney felt that it was only fitting that he reply to the comment with his own recollection. Caught somewhere between Mrs. Lovett's eyes and the dead realm of memories, he murmured, "Lucy liked the crocus flower."

Mrs. Lovett went still and her face froze. "Ahh, yes…of course," she muttered, turning away from Todd. No longer held as he had been by her gaze, the barber blinked and returned to himself.

The sudden thundering of footsteps up the wooden stairs outside jolted Sweeney to his feet. _It's him!_ He ran to the door, positioning himself behind it so as to get the upper hand. Mrs. Lovett did little more than glance at him before the door burst open and a man stumbled into the shop.

"M-Mr. Todd!!" Anthony panted. Mrs. Lovett gave him her best _What the hell do you want _glare, forcing him back a step. "Sorry ma'am."

"It's Mrs. Lovett, son," she snapped, crossing her arms just under her breasts.

Anthony, obviously holding no desire to converse more than necessary with the moody woman before him, glanced around for his acquaintance. Seeing no need to force the innocent lad into a confrontation with the already-annoyed (although he really had no idea why) Mrs. Lovett, Sweeney stepped out of the shadows and nodded at the newcomer.

"Hello, Anthony."

Seeing his friend, the young sailor turned away from the testy landlady and began spouting out a long bout of rubbish about a young beauty and her guardian and cages.

"And I know it's crazy, but Johanna-"

Sweeney twitched. "What did you say the lass's name was?"

"Johanna. She's being held captive by her guardian, the Judge Turpin. Will you help me?"

Shocked, Sweeney could find nothing to say to the boy. Johanna? _His Johanna?_ She had caught the eye of this boy, this…_sailor_! Oh the hand of fate that struck him so harshly in all the worst ways! For an instant, Todd had the strangest sensation of being part of something…something larger than himself or Mrs. Lovett or even Turpin. Something…

"Bring 'er 'ere, Lov," Mrs. Lovett interrupted, breaking his train of thought. He looked up at her, trying to find the glint of silver again and feeling somewhat let down when she avoided his gaze, denying him his desire.

He realized Anthony was staring at him, waiting for acknowledgement of Mrs. Lovett's decision. Todd nodded, still distracted by his thoughts and the insane desire to grab Mrs. Lovett's chin and force her to look at him. Why wouldn't she? Where was the woman who followed him around, smelling his hair and whispering about her fondness for him? Had he angered her in some way?

"Right then." Mrs. Lovett walked to the door and finally turned to Sweeney. "I'd better get back down to the shop then." Some distant part of his mind registered that the lad had left and he hadn't even noticed, but mostly it was focused on one thought.

Mrs. Lovett had the loveliest eyes he had ever seen.

_Yes, it's short but review and I'll lengthen it for you. I'll hop right to that now, actually._


	2. A Boy Called Toby

_Sadly, nothing has changed and I still do not own the rights to Sweeney Todd. Should this ever change, I assure you that I would inform all of you, dear readers._

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"Tha's wha _she_ likes!" Mrs. Lovett fumed, her accent thick and terrible to hear. "Ev'r time I get close _she_ 'as to come between us!" Oh! If only the old hag had died when he was still Benjamin Barker! Then she could have been there to comfort him and take care of him…much like she was now, in fact. Only then he would have been more feeling. Then, he would have cared more about a poor, lonely widow like her…

A bug skittered across the floor and Mrs. Lovett made sure to give it an extra hard stomp. The poor thing's green guts smeared across the stone floor and stuck to the bottom of her boots.

"_**Mon-dieu!!!**_" she screeched when she slipped on the slick innards.

Just before her bum could crack the stone, something jerked her arms nearly clean out of her sockets. Holding her breath and hoping (Mista Todd might have come around, you never know!), Lovett glanced over her shoulder at her rescuer.

"Signor Pirelli!!" Sure enough, it was the tall, greasy git from the market! "What are you doin' 'ere?" She yanked her arm out of his grasp and used it to fan the air in front of her face. Why did the man have to wear so much cologne? He smelled like a bleeding fop, he did!

"I am 'ear to see a mister Todd," he answered, raising his chin enough that he was looking down at her. "I take it 'e is up de stairs?"

Mrs. Lovett nodded and turned her attention to the lad behind him. He was so thin…he obviously hadn't been treated right. She had seen how Pirelli had chosen to sharpen his razor, without a care in the world for the boy he was butchering. And then, when he lost to Mister Todd, how he had beaten the poor boy so! She had tried to shrug off the stifled cries of the lad but now they came back to haunt her. Ah, well… it wasn't like she could help him. Unless, of course…

"Do you like pie, dearie?"

How a simple question could light up a face! Unable to speak for fear of his master's wrath and quick hand, the boy only nodded, and rapidly at that! Well, if he would eat them then why not? Wasn't like she was going to eat them…

"Well then, why don't we get you a pie while your master sees to his business then? You don't mind, do you dear?"

Pirelli was already leaving. He waved his ring-covered hand and sneered in reply.

_Damn bloody bloke. Can't say I'd be too disappointed if Mister Todd finished him off up there._

As much as she enjoyed toying on thoughts of what _could_ happen between the two men, Lovett now had a new charge to think about. The boy was hungry and the pies were waiting.

She walked to the table where the boy sat. "Here ye go, lov. Straight from the oven." Of course, straight from the oven didn't exactly mean "fresh," Lovett mused as she sat across from the lad. The fire was still going, true, but it had dwindled down to a flame the size of one she might find on a candlewick.

"Thankee ma'am!" The boy tucked right into the meal, devouring the pie as hungrily as her Alfred had when they'd been filled with real meat. Now the bug juices and pieces people well enough away. But when times were so desperate, what was a poor widow woman to do? At least the bugs weren't quite as bad as the cats that her neighbor used for _her_ meat…although Lovett couldn't imagine how they were better.

Noticing that the lad was already nearly done with the pie, Mrs. Lovett decided to strike up some conversation. After all, Mister Todd wasn't exactly the most talkative person and she did get lonely sometimes with no one else to talk to. Perhaps the boy would know a thing or two about…a thing or two. It was worth a try, at least.

"You eat about as nice as my Albert." She nodded towards her late husband's picture. "He just about ate himself to death, he did. Wasn't nearly as handsome as you though, what with your nice head of hair."

The boy finally lifted his head and slowed his inhalation of the pie long enough to say, "To tell the truth, it gets awful hot." Then his small hand slid the tangled mound of blonde hair off of his head. The lad scratched his freed scalp a good half-minute before going back to the pie.

Lovett rolled her eyes at this, yet another sign that Pirelli was a fake. Which made her wonder…what did he want with Mister Todd? Unsettled because she didn't know all of the details (not that she was a nosey woman or anything), the baker rose and made her way to the counter. Might as well try to tidy up a bit…not that it would help any.

Just as she had settled herself behind the counter, she heard a light thump. _What was that?_ You'd think that Mister Todd was—

_THUMP!!!_

Oh, God…Mister Todd _was_…

Tony glanced up at the ceiling, listening to the noise above. Realizing with a start that the lad could hear just as well as she could what was going on above them, Lovett grabbed the first thing she could – a mixing bowl – and slammed it down on the counter making as much noise as she could to cover up the sounds of Mister Todd and his possible victim.

"My my my!" she cried, "Always work to be done!" She slammed another container on the counter and started rearranging random objects. "Spick and span, that's the way it should be, lad. After all, this is a pie shop not a blacksmith's basement!"

The boy nodded and returned to his pie, the muffled noises from above forgotten. Lovett turned her gaze back to the ceiling, however, the event all-too-fresh in her mind.

_What is Mister Todd doing up there?_

--------------------

At that moment, Mister Todd was bashing Pirelli's head in. Over and over he struck the unconscious man.

_This is for trying to cheat me!_

_This is for thinking me a fool!_

_This is for being wicked!_

_This is for taking away my Lucy!!_

_TURPIN!_

"Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Todd screamed. "Lucyyyyyyyy!!!!"

Finally, taking a step back from the body he felt his hand loosen and heard the thump of metal on wood. "Lucy." He felt numb, body and mind. And soul…well now that was dead and had been for many years now, hadn't it? Sweeney let out a shaky breath and backed into something. _The chair._ Good, he needed to sit.

Need to sit after a good killing. Todd felt something bubbling up inside him; a laugh, a choke, a cry.

A sob?

No, Sweeney Todd did not cry. Maybe as gentle-hearted Benjamin Barker he might have shed a tear for the dead criminal, but as the hollow-chested Sweeney Todd he felt nothing. No grief, no remorse, no love… There was only hate left in Sweeney Todd. Hate and desire for revenge.

_I will have vengeance…I will have salvation…_

_I will have __**you**_

The words became a mantra in his head, thumping in time with the steps on the stairs.

Steps?

_The boy._

He leapt from the chair and raced to the body. Where to store it? His eyes fell on his sailor's trunk. _Perfect._

_-_

* * *

_Boo, don't blame me for the cliff-hanger. My suitemate made me do it. But it isn't REALLY a cliff-hanger if you've seen the movie. I'm trying to keep my fanfic pretty close to the movie but different as well. This chapter was a **lot** like the movie...more so than I really wanted it to be, but it had some differences too. Oh, and for those of you who were like "WHAAAAT? Mrs. Lovett speaks French?!" Well, my roommate is a French major and if you think about it...in England there are LOTS of French speakers so it would be fair to assume that Mrs. Lovett could speak a wee bit. Besides, I always have more fun swearing in another language. But there probably won't be too much of that in this fanfic. After all, not everyone speaks French!! (She said "My God!" by the way)_

_Keep up the reviews!! 3_


	3. Pretty Women

This wonderful movie does not belong to me and, although my boyfriend could be Johnny's double, I do not own any of the characters. The difference in storyline (which isn't too much in THIS chapter, sadly) belongs to me, though!

* * *

She hadn't been able to catch the lad before he was out the door and up the stairs. Ahh, well…one could only hope that Mister Todd had managed to take care of whatever he'd been taking care of.

Not really expecting the lad to return (surely Mister Todd would have sent him off with that piss-tonic man), Lovett leaned on the bug-ridden counter and decided to take a break from baking her bug-meat pies. After all, no one was going to buy any and she deserved a break, didn't she? Yes sir, she did! Such a long week it had been!! First seeing Mister Bar--Todd after so long and then the ordeal with the swindler Pirelli and his boy Toby…well, one just might imagine all the work that had to be done! Cleaning up after Mister Todd was no easy matter! Which was odd, seeing as how he had been nothing like that before…

Before _her_…

Mister Todd, Lovett knew, blamed the Judge Turpin for his troubles and losses. Lovett blamed hers on the poor twit he'd been married to. If she hadn't been so foolishly naïve!! Lovett knew the ways of the world; she could have told the silly little nit that Turpin was not to be trusted, especially at night in his home and alone! What kind of woman went out like that anyway? She was just asking for trouble! And if she hadn't been so damned pretty…Lovett might have been answering to Benjamin the past years instead of her Albert. Not that she regretted the years she spent with her late husband, mind you. He had taken care of her for all of his faults and that was all she'd asked of him and all he'd ever promised. But had she been given the choice, she would have gladly sacrificed years of comfort with Albert for a few days of abuse with her Mister Barker.

Lovett sighed. He would never have abused her though. Not like Mister Todd…

Lucy had gotten the best part of the man and lost it with her sanity after _that night_. It seemed as though, as horrible as it was to even think it, Mister Todd would never-

"Mum!!" cried a small (and entirely _too_ excited) voice that she had never expected to hear again.

"Toby? Why, wot are you doin' back down 'ere? I thought you'd gone to fetch your master, yet you stand 'ere now." So her break was to be cut short. Ah, well… c'est la vie, non?

"The gent'man said that I could 'ave some ale, mum! 'E said that I could 'ave a tall glass of it, that 'e did!" the boy replied with a bit too much enthusiasm.

"Oh 'e did, did 'e?" Why that man! Just giving away her ale like that! And without so much as a may-you-please, as well! Well… "Where's that ale," Lovett muttered, accepting that the only thing to do was what the barber ordered.

"S'up there, mum," supplied the boy. Sure, _now_ he was talkative! With a sigh, Lovett snatched a dusty glass, blew it out, and poured the boy a decent (for a lad) portion. He said to give the orphan a drink, not to let him have the whole bottle, after all!

Gulping down the entire glass in one go, he handed it back to her and nodded towards the bottle. Rolling her eyes, Lovett poured another (much smaller) amount. This time, the lad drank a little slower and Lovett, her hand on the bottle in case he finished while she wasn't looking, turned her head towards the room above. And the man within it.

"I wonder wot 'e's doing up there," Lovett mused to her self, forgetting that the midget who was inhaling her supply of gin had ears and could hear her.

"Prolly waitin' for another customer. 'E's a right good gent'man, 'e is!"

_Did I ask you?_

She couldn't take it anymore. Though she had left him only moments ago, it had been too long since she'd seen Mister Todd's face…felt his warmth…smelled his hair. Oh God, his hair! He had a scent about him that had nothing to do with the French cologne that he wore. His natural odor only served to enhance the perfume and entice the woman who let him his room.

"Think I'll just run up 'n see wot 'e's up to, dearie."

The lad grunted, too busy with his gin to give a care. _These is the businesses of grown peoples, anyhow._ And with that thought, Lovett rose, intent on seeing the man who ruled her life.

_Thmp thmp thmp…_

Corpses were pounding on his head, their souls flowing through his blood in desperation. The ache that had followed him throughout his death - for what he had now was no life - was growing and stifling his ability to think, to breath. He needed fresh air but there was nowhere to get it in this hellhole. This seeping sewer, this fissure in the earth inhabited by dung-filled demons and their pathetic followers…

"Mis'r Todd!!"

_**The Judge!!**_

Hand tightening on his razor, Todd whirled, his arm lashing out in excitement as he lunged for the figure in the doorway. The judge squealed and raised his hands in defense, crying out his name in fear.

The breasts gave pause to Sweeney's attack. He hadn't had much time to study what the judge looked like now, but he was quite certain that the man did _not_ have breasts that spilled out of his flour-and-gravy-stained dress.

"Mrs. Lovett," he growled, tightening his hold on the silver weapon.

"I-I called for you," she whispered. "I said your name, did you not 'ear?"

Sweeney's blood lowered to a simmer in his veins the longer he stared at the baker. Her eyes were wide and cautious, perhaps even a little afraid. Surely he hadn't frightened her too badly? She knew that he wouldn't kill her…not without a reason, anyway.

He turned from her and returned to his pacing in front of the window. Not moving from her spot just inside the room, Lovett ventured to ask, "So when will the Italian be getting back?"

After a moment of silence, Todd grunted a response, his words allowing for no argument. "He won't be coming back."

He heard her suck in breath. "Mis'r Todd, you didn't!"

Nodding towards the trunk – oh, sweet distraction, that! – Sweeney returned to his post. He heard a creak as the lid was lifted (could she smell the blood, the death, the evil he had purged of the world?) and a gasp just before Lovett slammed the lid shut.

"You're barkin' mad!" she cried, her shocked voice grating against his skull. "Killin' a man wot did you no 'arm!"

Uncertain as to why exactly, Sweeney bristled at the thought of Mrs. Lovett misunderstanding the murder. After all, although no Londoner really deserved to live, he would only kill those who deserved it.

_It felt good though, that it did…_

_Wouldn't mind giving it another go…_

_And he died so quickly after his throat…_

"He tried to blackmail me. Half me earnings," he explained, refusing to glance at her.

"Oh, well…that's a different story!" She laughed. "I thought you was losing your marbles there for a minute!" The trunk creaked again and Lovett started mumbling. Something about a mess…then (and he was certain that he'd heard this one correctly) "Waste not, want not!" and the chink of coins.

She'd stolen the man's coin purse! Her resourcefulness was amazing. The edge of Sweeney's mouth began to curve up, not into a smile but into something a bit less than a scowl. He opened his mouth to reply, inhaled, and-

"What do we do about the lad?"

_Ahh, yes…the boy…_

There was really only one thing to do with the lad.

"Send him up."

Cold water splashed her insides. Send up the lad? He was just a boy! Surely Mister T didn't mean to…

"Not the boy too?"

Todd's head snapped towards her.

"Send him up!" He sounded angry…because she had argued, perhaps?

"Now Mis'r Todd…surely one's enough for today. 'Sides, 'e's filled wi' gin as 'tis. An' I need a bit of 'elp around the shop. Maybe 'e could do for a spell. 'Elp is so 'spensive as it is…"

Mister Todd was silent for so long that she thought he wouldn't answer her when finally he muttered, almost too soft to hear, "Fine then."

He turned from her, glancing back out the window. Lovett hung her head, afraid that she had angered him. But he didn't sound angry…he sounded almost…indulging…? Perhaps he really could come to-

Mister Todd cried out suddenly.

"It's him!"

The words struck her heart and stayed there. He was here? How? Now? So soon?

"Who is, dearie?"

"The judge! Judge Turpin!" He whirled and fixed her with a glare. "Leave me." Lovett opened and closed her mouth rather like a fish out of water. "_Leave me!!_" Mister Todd yelled. Jumping, Lovett turned and hurried out the door and down the stairs outside, almost stumbling on the loose fourth step. The gentleman passed behind her just as she entered her shop. Taking a deep calming breath, Lovett pressed her hands against her face and moaned.

"Dear God…don't let him leave me after this death…"

"So what will it be today sir: a stylish trimming of the hair, a soothing skin massage?" Todd smiled at his customer. "Sit sir, sit."

And, miraculously, he did.

The Honorable Judge Turpin, every bit the snobbish "gentleman," did not bother to glance at his humble barber, instead staring straight ahead as he instructed.

"You see, sir, a man infatuate with love, her ardent and eager slave. So fetch the pomade and pumice stone and lend me a more seductive tone, a sprinkling perhaps of French cologne, but first, sir, I think," he glanced skeptically at the barber, "a shave."

Todd could not help the bloodthirsty smirk that stretched his flesh as he replied, "The closest I ever gave."

Although the devil deserved one as black as his soul, Todd chose the cleanest of his white sheets and tucked it securely around him like a mother would her child's blanket. Like Lucy had Johanna's.

With that image in mind, Todd slid his fingers longingly up and down the handle of his "friend." _At last…_ He could not help a chuckle from escaping but managed to disguise it in a friendly hum. He began humming in time to the heartbeat that he imagined beat just under Turpin's flesh.

"You're in a merry mood today, Mister Todd," observed the judge as Todd mixed the lather.

"'Tis your delight, sir, catching fire from one man to the next," he answered smoothly, checking the thickness of the lather.

"'Tis true, sir, love can still inspire the blood to pound, the heart leap higher," the death-bringer replied poetically, his voice sounding slipping into a melody that Todd had no trouble mimicking in his jolly mood.

"What more," Turpin began, followed by Todd who was quite content to sing with the man that he was about to kill. "What more can man require than love, sir?" Todd echoed his words as he lathered the elder man's face. "What's that?"

"Women," Todd replied, his mind on gold and his eyes full of silver. "Pretty women." _Like my Lucy_, he thought darkly. A deep hum broke through his thoughts and Todd realized that his victim was humming his happy tune again. Well, if he wanted a song before he died…

_I'll give him a song that'll chill his heart…_ Todd slid out his favorite blade and could not prevent the shiver that crawled down his spine. _Now then, my friend…now to your purpose._ He glanced at the judge reclining peacefully in his chair. _Patience, enjoy it…revenge can't be taken in haste-_

The man opened one eye and glanced at the barber. "Make haste, and if we wed you'll be commended, sir."

"My lord." He stepped closer, bowing to hid his menacing stare. "And who, may it be said, is your intended, sir?"

Then, like a death knoll, the man who had destroyed Todd's life answered casually, "My ward." He settled more comfortably in the chair and closed his eyes once more. "And pretty as a rosebud."

_Blond hair…blue eyes…rosebud…_

"Pretty as her mother…?" Todd whispered, the pain of irony pressing against his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

"What?"

Todd shook his head, effectively ridding it of the wisps of memories that had begun to cloud it. "Nothing, sir…nothing." He leaned closer and lowered the steel blade to Turpin's throat…

"Pretty women, fascinating…" He stroked the underside of the judge's throat with his razor gently, so gently, and tried to bring back images of what _his_ pretty woman had done that had excited him… "Sipping coffee, dancing…pretty women are a wonder. Pretty women…sitting in the window or standing on the stair, something in them cheers the air." As he continued shaving the man, he began again, hoping to draw the judge's trust. "Pretty women…"

"Silhouetted," replied the other man's deep voice.

"Stay within you…"

"Glancing…"

_Lucy…_

"Stay forever."

"Breathing lightly."

"Pretty women."

"Pretty women!" Entranced by the sound of each other's voices and the memories of the lovely women they'd shared, they joined together in remembrance. "Blowing out their candles or combing out their hair."

"Then they leave," Turpin interrupted bitterly, reminding Todd of his loss. "Even when they leave you and vanish, they somehow can still remain there with you…there with you."

Todd ushered him back to the joys of pretty women before the man regained his tense suspicion. Reminding Turpin of the joys of pretty women, Todd was also reliving the memory of what it was like to have a pretty woman.

_Pretty women…here's to pretty women, my women, all the women!_

Todd raised the deadly razor for one last swipe at the judge's throat.

_**BAM!!**_

"Mister Todd, Johanna says she'll elope with me!"

Todd froze. _No!_

The judge leapt from the chair, shoving the deadly blade away carelessly. "Johanna? Marry _you_? I will not have it!" He stepped closer to the suddenly pale sailor. "There is indeed a Higher Power to warn me thus in time. But you shall not have her. I'll lock her up in some obscure retreat where neither you nor any other vile, corrupting youth shall ever lay eyes on her again!"

He whirled and glared at Todd, who was feeling quite numb at the realization that he had been so close…

"And as for you, barber," he spat, "It is all too clear what company you keep. Service them well and hold their custom, for you'll have none of mine!" He snatched his coat and stomped out of the room.

Todd stumbled, his feet so weak that they could barely hold his weight. He grabbed the chair back and tried to keep the baker's infamous pie that he'd eaten earlier down. _Oh Gods…_ He was…

"Mister Todd, you have to help me!"

"Leave me," Todd growled. He was going to kill the boy if he didn't get out of the room. Kill him!!

"But Mister Todd-"

"**LEAVE ME!!**"

Anthony bolted, racing down the stairs so quickly that he nearly knocked Mrs. Lovett down them as she came up.

Lovett glanced at the young sailor flying down the worn stairs. She stepped aside but took the time to pause and watch him trip on the fourth step and fly face-first into a puddle.

"Aye, you 'ave to watch that fourth step," Lovett advised, laughing inside. She shook her head at the man's retreating form and continued up the stairs to Mister Todd's room. She hadn't seen the judge retreat, so she assumed that Todd had finished what he'd set out to do.

"All this runnin' an' shoutin'! What is it now, dear-" Lovett began as she entered the room to find a not-so-bloodstained Todd and a lack-of-judge in her late husband's chair.

_Oh no…_

* * *

Ahh, so... your mean ol' author has left you at a cliffhanger...booo!! Haha, but I'm reaaaaaaally tired! I just wanted to get this out to celebrate the fact that SWEENEY TODD IS NOW OUT IN STORES!! Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!!  
Also, my roomate (and suitemate) was about to KILL me!! They kept getting on to me about not updating so you guys (and girls!) had better thank God and Lacey and Sarah (mostly God and Lacey, though) for the update!  
I'll try to update it again soon, but I can't promise anything. I've got a really big research paper due in American Lit soon. Meep!! .


	4. Epiphany

Sooo...I know that I just posted something but I figured you'd all be okay with the quick little resolution to that cliff-hanger. Anyhoo, I was thinking of writing more to this, but Lacey thought that this was such a good ending to a chapter that I should just post it now and get it over with.

Anyhoooo!! Same nonesense about not owning anything. Booo! --

* * *

_"All this runnin' an' shoutin'! What is it now, dear-" Lovett began as she entered the room to find a not-so-bloodstained Todd and a lack-of-judge in her late husband's chair._

Oh no…

-

"I had him."

Ice trickled down Lovett's back and settled in her empty stomach. The dark chill of fear…

"His throat was bare beneath my hand…"

The baker's eyes widened and she tried to console him, to prevent the insanity hiding just behind his eyes from spilling out and engulfing her. "There, there, dear-"

"_No_, I had him!" Mister Todd staggered towards the chair where only moments before the _Honorable_ Judge Turpin had sat. "His throat was there and he'll never come again!"

Her breath hitched in her throat. That desperate note in the barber's voice frightened her. "Easy now…hush, Love, hush…I keep telling you-"

"_**WHEN?!**_" he shouted, lunging towards her.

"W-what's your rush?" Lovett whispered, her voice cracking in fear.

"Why did I wait," Todd asked himself as he closed the distance between him and the baker. "_You_ told me to wait! Now he'll never come again!" Lovett retreated a step, her back pressing into the cold wood of the door. She couldn't move, she was paralyzed. Breathing heavily, she watched him storm towards the large window, screaming "There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and it's filled with people who are filled with _shit_ and the vermin of the world inhabit it!" He grinned darkly, his shoulders tense with excitement. "But not for long…" Raising his head to the gray sky, he continued. "We all deserve to die. Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why."

_'as he gone barkin' mad?_ Lovett couldn't help but wonder as she followed his progress towards the shattered mirror in the corner.

"Because in all of the whole human race, Mrs. Lovett, there are two kinds of men and only two," Todd explained, staring sadistically at his reflection. "There's the one stayin' put in his proper place and the one with his foot in the other man's face." He turned towards her, the crazed glint shining in his eyes. "Look at me, Mrs. Lovett, look at you."

Lovett held her breath as he advanced on her, crying, "No, we all deserve to die." His fingers closed around her throat loosely, catching her heart in her hands. "Even _you_, Mrs. Lovett, even I." He led her stiff, unyielding body to the chair that had so recently seen death by this man and forced her into it. "Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief, for the rest of us death will be a relief."

Was that cold metal she felt against her neck? It was!! The insane man was holding his razor to her throat!!

"Mister Todd-!"

"We all deserve to die!"

Grasping his wrist, Lovett cried again, desperate to break the crazed emotion that had taken over her love. "_**BENJAMIN BARKER**_!!" she screeched. He froze, the razor still against her flesh, warming itself with her heartbeat.

"I'll never see Johanna…I'll never see my girl again…"

"Mister Todd…we can fix that," Lovett soothed, relieved when she felt him relax and pull away from her. "We can get 'er from that boy…the foolish one wot spoiled ev'rthing. We can fix it, Love," she repeated.

Todd shuffled to the window again. "Finished," he whispered.

Lovett stood and cautiously made her way towards him.

"I will get him back," he added, a little stronger than before. "But on the mean time I'll…_practice_…on, shall we say, _less honorable_ throats…"

"There, there, Love," Lovett responded soothingly, happy at the change in him. She pressed against him, willing her passiveness to seep into his troubled body. She rested her head against him, but jerked back in jealousy at his next words.

"My Lucy lies in ashes, and I'll never see my girl again…"

Lovett's eyes narrowed. She was just getting him under control; she would _not_ lose him again to the same woman!

"But the world waits," she coaxed. She'd take him any way she could have him, crazy if she had to. Just if he would stay with her for a little longer… "Your alive again, Mister Todd."

His head tilted to the side as if he were considering her last comment. Then he chuckled and he relaxed against her warm body. "And I'm full of joy."

* * *

If you liked it, let me know! And if you didn't (although I can't imagine why! wink), leave me a review then too! Remember! Reviews make the world go 'round! 3

(PS: I loved that "I 'Lovett'!" comment! It made my (and Lacey's) day!


	5. Brilliance of the Pie Lady

_And here it is! The next chapter! Yaaay!  
Don't go eating any of those pies now, guys. XD_

* * *

After quite a bit of fussing and manipulating, Lovett finally managed to get Mister Todd down the stairs. He was looking a mite bit unhealthy and she could only assume that it was from all the cold air upstairs. Besides, he wasn't arguing and even his thoughtful silence was better than the crazed shouting he'd been doing only moments before. She sat him down at her worn, wooden table and began the search for the gin. Of course, she found it in the limp hand of the orphan boy.

Sighing at the pitiful sight of the liquid left in the bottle, Lovett recapped it and left the boy where he lay, in a pool of his own drool. There were still a few glasses that were somewhat clean and so she grabbed one as she walked back to Mister Todd, blowing out the dust as she did. Setting the glass in front of him on the table, she poured a generous bit, considering how much was left in the bottle.

"There; drink it down," the baker commanded. She set the bottle down and settled herself onto the stool across from Mister Todd, noting as she did that he had obediently started to drink the clear liquid. She would smile at the gesture, but there were more pressing matters to attend to.

"Now then. We go' a body mouldrin' away upstairs." She raised her eyes to Mister Todd's. "What'chu intend we should do abou' that then?"

He grimaced, and she'd bet money that it was more from the drink than the thought of the body upstairs. Of course, now he was appraising the swallow of gin that was left in the glass as though it were a one-pound whore and he was a sailor just back from a no-stop trip around the world.

"La'er on when it's dark," he began, turning the glass slightly as he spoke, "we'll take it t' some secret place an' bury it."

_Huh._

"Oh yeah…" Lovett muttered, barely noticing that she was speaking out loud. "Course we could do tha'." She stood and shuffled towards the window, the best spot to think while waiting for customers. She felt a might uneasy about the whole thing….and a bit dissatisfied too. She was certain that there was something that could be done about the body…something better, more suiting Mister Todd than a simple "hide the body." Besides, if Mister Todd meant to keep on killing, there would be more bodies to hide, more lies to try and cover up. If only there were another way to go about it.

"Don't suppose 'e's got any relatives tha's gonna come pokin' around lookin' for 'him."

Her eyes fell on the building across the street. There it was, that _damned_ Mrs. Mooney's Pie Shop, Lovett noted absently. That bloody cat-killer… If only Lovett had been fast enough to catch the cats her pies would be at least as good as the cat-meat ones across the str—

And she had it.

-

"Seems a downright shame."

Dear God, what was she going on about now? Todd raised his head to find Mrs. Lovett staring at him wide-eyed, shocked at her own brilliance.

"Shame?"

She dropped the curtain absently, turning towards the pie counter.

"Seems an awful waste."

Todd turned back to his glass. She would explain herself eventually…bloody woman.

"Such a nice plump frame what's-his-name has…had…has." She stepped closer to the counter and Todd couldn't help following her with his eyes. She was moving like a woman determined, so sure of herself. "Nor it can't be traced."

Swallowing the rest of the gin, feeling the cold liquid claw its way down his throat, Todd watched the baker out of the corner of his eyes, barely suppressing the shiver that the gin, combined with the baker's obsessive tone, gave him.

"Business needs a _lift_," Mrs. Lovett went on, "Debts to be erased." With more excitement: "Think of it as thrift! As a gift...if you get my drift."

She was staring at him, watching him fiddle with the glass as though she knew that she had his attention. But how did she know? And what on bloody earth was she going on about?!

"Seems an awful waste." Lovett would just have to spell it out for the man, and with her next words she decided to do just that. She turned back to the counter and grabbed the spoon from her bug-meat bowl, watching the greasy, green mess drip back into it. "I mean, with the price of meat what it is…when you get it…if you get it…"

And he got it.

"Ahh…" Did she really just suggest that they…?

"Good you got it!" She snapped around towards him, with even more energy than before, stepping closer to him, smiling as she went on. "Take for instance, Mrs. Mooney and 'er pie shop." She began to pace, excitement making her moves jerky and fast. "Business never better usin' only pussycats an' toast. Now a pussy's for maybe six or seven at the most…and I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste!"

And the energy that was coursing throughout her body finally made its way to him. He could hold it in no more than she. He was a murderer and she was his baker and he loved it.

Slamming the glass down, no longer worrying about the lack of gin, Sweeney shot to his feet, announcing, "Mrs. Lovett! What a charming notion, eminently practical and yet appropriate as always!"

"Well, it does seem a waste," she answered, not even trying to hide her brilliance as Lucy would have. She'd had a great idea and she _knew_ it!

Grinning and moving closer, close enough to grab the ingenious woman and draw her to him. "Mrs. Lovett, how I've lived without you all these years I'll never know!" And he pulled her into a happy dance, both of them bristling with excitement. "How delectable!"

"Think about it: lots of other gentlemen'll soon be comin' for a shave. Won't they? Think of all the pies!"

"Also undetectable," Sweeney went on, oblivious to everything but this revelation. "How choice! How rare!"

Energy reaching a point neither could stand, they dropped the would-be-waltz and hurried to the large window to 'pick out' a few _choice pies_.

"For what's the sound of the world out there?" Sweeney asked his Mrs. Lovett who was already grinning out the window by the time he'd reached her side.

"Wha', Mister Todd, wha', Mister Todd, wha' is tha' sound?"

He nudged her playfully, delighted to see he grin back at him. "Those crunching noises pervading the air," he teased.

Mockingly she raised her eyebrows in a surprised manner. "Yes, Mister Todd, yes, Mister Todd, yes all around!"

"It's man devouring man, my dear."

Lovett turned to him and grinned. "And who are we to deny it in here?"

Chuckling, Sweeney glanced out the window again, but turned when he felt her presence leave his side. She was fumbling around in her oven. Sweeney walked towards her but froze when she placed another one of those God-awful pies before him on the counter.

"'Ere we are; fresh, ou' of the oven."

Scrunching his brow, Sweeney gave a silent prayer that she wasn't asking him to eat the pie as he asked, "What is that?"

Lovett laughed. "It's priest." She nodded out the window towards the priest across the street. "'Ave a little priest."

His feet carried him towards the window. "Is it really good?"

"Sir, it's too good at least." Then, unable to help herself, she went on. "Then again they don't commit sins of the flesh…so it's pretty fresh." Sweeney shook his head. Surely a woman as brilliant as Mrs. Lovett could come up something better than that! Perhaps she only needed a bit of prompting…?

"Awful lot of fat."

"Only where it sat," she replied immediately. That was better, but…

"Haven't you got poet or something like that?"

She walked to his side. "No, you see the trouble with poet is how do you know it's deceased?" Winking at him, she added, "Try the priest."

Sweeney barely prevented himself from smiling back at her playful grin. Turning away from her, he returned to the other window. He had seen a few choice "pies" out there earlier…

Lovett was at his side in an instant, leaning against his arm slightly. After a moment of silence, she prompted him with, "Lawyer's rather nice."

"If it's for a price," Sweeney replied, boring a bit with her choice.

"Order something else though to follow since no one should swallow it twice." Sweeney chuckled.

"Anything that's lean?"

"Well, then if you're British and loyal, you migh' enjoy Royal Marine. Anyway, it's clean." Her nose wrinkled a bit. "Though, of course, it tastes of wherever it's been."

Grinning, completely absorbed in their game now, Sweeney nodded towards a young man. "Is that squire on the fire?"

"Mercy no, sir! Look closer, you'll notice it's grocer!"

_Grocer?_

"Looks thicker…more like vicar!"

"No, it 'as to be grocer…it's green!"

With the last remark, even Lovett couldn't keep herself from laughing. Sweeney wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her momentarily from the window. In the tone of someone teaching a much younger, less privileged person, he informed her, "The history of the world, my love, is those below serving those up above."

He heard her suck in air, but ignored it as another symptom of the adrenaline that they were both feeling. "How gratifying for once to know-"

"That those above will serve those down below," she finished, her eyes shining.

He pulled her into another dance. "Have charity towards the world, my pet."

"Yes, yes, I know, my love," Lovett replied, laughing with delight.

"We'll take the customers that we can get."

"High-born and low, my love," she affirmed.

"We'll not discriminate great from small, no we'll serve anyone-"

"Meaning anyone-"

"And to anyone-"

"At all!" Lovett finished, content to dance and sway in his arms, even if, in their excitement, they were stumbling over the steps.


	6. I Still Have Reason To Rejoice

I own nothing. OO;

* * *

_Clk_

_Chiiiiiiiink_

_Krrrkrrrkrrrkrr_

Eventually, if you listened to the noises enough, they started to sound like words. Almost like an anthem in your head. An anthem of pies, meat, people, and love…ett…

He couldn't lie to himself about it any longer; that warm feeling he felt whenever he thought of her was admiration. Yes, Sweeney admired Lovett for her brilliant mind, her shrewd practicality, and her ability to turn the worst situation into endeavors that did nothing but help her. How choice…how rare…

Unable to help himself, Sweeney began to hum as he worked the next cog into place. _What's the sound of the world out there...?_

Chuckling at the memory of her wit, the barber continued to work on his creation. It was late; Big Ben had already rung the second hour. Lovett and the boy had already gone to bed and he would soon follow them, but for now he just wanted to be lulled and comforted by the gentle sounds of the machinery falling into place.

He was finished before sunrise on his contraption, a present for Mrs. Lovett. Smiling and stacking his tools neatly back in their small box, he stretched his aching muscles. He'd show her in the morning. For now, all that the barber wanted was a bit of rest.

-

"Mister T! Looka' tha'! It's very crafty, it is," Lovett complimented, her eyes appraising the barber's chair as her hands stroked the smooth wood. "It'll be put t' better use now than it was when me Albert was alive."

Todd grunted, too caught up in window-watching to notice the way her smile faded at his lack of response. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, followed the paths of the Londoners. His head hurt and he hadn't had another customer yet. And on top of it all, he was bloody _hungry_!

…not that he was going to eat a pie… It was fine to sell them to customers, but Todd had something against eating such filth. Perhaps if the pie were made of judge…then he'd be able to enjoy the succulent meal.

"Y' certainly are a genius, Mister Todd," Lovett went on, her voice not quite as annoying as it had been a moment ago. She was also closer. Todd's muscles tensed as he felt her come up behind him, her skirts brushing against his legs. Her small, pale hand crept up his arm as she whispered to him, "Y' know, Mister T…what I'd-"

Todd jerked suddenly, excitedly. "A customer!" he hissed, whirling around. He was shocked to find her so close, but he quickly dismissed it. Clasping her arms, he grinned darkly, eagerly. "You'll soon have your pies, Mrs. Lovett!"

Watching his reaction, her eyes bright, Lovett smiled softly. "Imagine tha'," she murmured, pulling herself out of his desperate hold as the door opened. Straightening and adopting a mask of indifference, Lovett muttered, "I'll just be gettin' back t' me shop then."

Still smiling, Todd took the newcomer's coat.

"Sit, sir…sit…."

-

Just as Lovett predicted, they came: an old man with but a bristle, a filthy street-sweeper with his broom, a clerk with barely any stubble, a young man getting his first shave; they just kept coming!

And Todd was caught up in the gentle seduction of his work. Lather, slice, press the switch, clean-up, and back for more! More and more men came to be shaven. Some, Todd killed; some, he shaved. The business wasn't bad. And even if he wasn't handed the money by the dead patrons, Mrs. Lovett was certain to check their pockets before grinding them. If she didn't hand the money to him directly, she used it to pay for the things he needed whenever she went to market.

Swept up in the blood-soaked waltz of murder, Todd began to forget exactly why he had begun killing. Who had he murdered first? Who would he murder last? Would he ever stop?

Staring out the large window, his arms still covered in blood from his last kill, Todd thought he heard a name…a name he'd almost forgotten.

_Johanna…_

_Lucy…_

Something caught in his throat. Johanna…? Wasn't that his…?

Yes…memories from another life coming back to haunt him. Well, this was his life now. If only angels could prevail…but they couldn't. And his Johanna, beautiful, pale Johanna, was gone. She was gone, and yet…and yet he was fine.

"I'm fine," the man who was Benjamin Barker whispered.

Something clattered downstairs. A pan, perhaps, or a metal plate being dropped. Business was booming for Lovett ever since he had started.

Sweeney smiled at the thought of the baker and the opportunity she'd given him. _I still have reason to rejoice…now the way ahead is clear._

But there was still that man…the man who had taken it away…

_Turpin._

So wired up was he that when the door opened, Todd swung around, his sleeve bloody and his razor out, ready to kill the man who had been unlucky enough to come into his shop while he was brooding.

But it wasn't a man. Lovett stood there in the doorway, framed by the candlelight from outside, shocked and perhaps even a little frightened. Todd's breathing slowed and his body visibly relaxed. It was just Mrs. Lovett, after all.

Seeing him relax, Lovett smiled and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She didn't know how she knew, but she had known that he would be up here thinking on things that he didn't need to be thinking on. It may have been that bloody beggar what was out there all the time, preaching against her…or it may have been her intuition. Lovett liked the latter idea better, so that was the one she accepted.

"Love, I just wanted to say…" What did she want to say? What could she possibly say to him? Not the truth, that was for certain… "I-I know that you'll be thinkin' of…them…until, I guess, the day you die…but…" She just couldn't bring herself to speak the hated name…the name of the poor dear…the silly nit who had the chance for a moon on the string…for everything!

As the silence stretched, Todd turned away from her, scowling at the moon. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and raspy. "I think I miss them less and less as every day goes by."

Lovett's head shot up, her eyes thirsting for his gaze, but content to stare at his back. "Jo-"

"Look, Mrs. Lovett," Todd interrupted. "Another bright red day."

And, looking out at the glow caused from the many bright candles, Lovett could almost agree…it was rather like a bright new day…

-

Didn't think she could read, did they? Thought she was just a simple, stupid beggar, did they? Well she could read! She could read and she would read and she did read and she read **The Witch**'s sign and knew it was for what it was. Just as she knew **The Witch** for what _she_ was! Oooh, yes! Beggar she may be, but she knew her witches and this witch was the cleverest witch she'd ever seen. But not clever enooooooouuuuugh!!

"Smoke, smoke! Sign-of-the-devil, sign-of-the-devil, _city on fiyaaaaa_!!" "**Witch**, **Witch**!" she cried, trying to warn everyone who would listen. Grabbing a passerby's arm, she cried out "Smell it, sir? An evil smell!!" He pulled away from her, hurrying off…to tell the beadle, she was sure! "Ev'ry night at the vespers bell! Smoke that comes from the mouth of hell!! _City on fire!! City on fire_…." Gasping at the stench – she could still smell it – the crazed woman sank into the shadows (must be kept hidden from **The Witch**, oh yes we must!), shrieking "Mischief! Mischief…_Mischief_!!"

But she would be back, ooooooooooh yes! She would watch over **The Witch** and make sure she didn't harm anyone. After all, witches are cunning, yes they are. They're witty and smart and cunning and conniving and thieving--

Thieving? Even in her muddled state, the woman knew that **The Witch** wasn't notorious for stealing…where on heaven's sainted, blessed, cursed, deadly, bloody, fiery earth did that come from…?

Shaking her rags-hair-rags-hair….head, she let the darkness envelope her. Not important…not important….

_Mischief._

-

Thomas Goodfrey had never considered himself to be an especially special man. Certainly, growing up in the countryside of the Good King's England didn't title him to anything special. He was a God-fearing Englishman and better than those limp-wristed Frenchies, and that was something at least. Though, as he walked the streets of London for the first time in his life, he felt not special, but something rather like it. Perhaps it was that in the country everything was cleaner, nicer…gentler. Or perhaps it was that the sins that were carried out within the city limits were of a greater and more horrific nature than those of without. And everything seemed darker here too…or perhaps that was just him.

And there was the matter of the man who was following him…

The stranger had been stalking him for some time, singing a woman's name. What was it? Donna? Anna? Hanna?

_"Johannaaaaaaa"_

Ahh, yes. That was it. Johanna. How could he forget?

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped. Thomas couldn't help glancing behind him long enough to see why. The man, at least he was taking the liberty to assume it was such, had stopped outside a large stone building, staring up at it obsessively. Recognizing the building for what it was, Thomas sighed with relief.

_At least he knows to go where he belongs_.

And with that thought, the Englishman walked on, leaving the asylum, and the singing man, far behind.

-

Of course, his luck didn't get any better as he explored the streets of London. The sun had set and he was in trouble. Thomas had already beaten away two would-be-thieves, a rat with a trap shut on his tail, and dodged a woman with a rolling pin who nearly ran him over in her pursuit of a run-away cat. Deciding that he had better leave this God-forsaken city as fast as possible, the man quickened his pace, sloshing through puddles of heaven-knew-what. He didn't stop for a rest until he was in a well-lit, populated area. Then, hands on his knees, he allowed himself a moment's breath.

"Look up there! Didn't I tell you? Smell that air!!" a voice cried out, desperate and aching in its insanity. "City on fiyaaaaa…!!"

Suddenly, seizing his arm and sending him into oceans of panic, a filthy beggar woman (at least he _thought_ it was a woman…) cried "Quick, sir! Run an' tell! Warn them all of the witch's spell!" Jerking spasmodically, she screamed "There it is; there it is, the unholy smell! Tell it to the Beadle and police as well!! Tell 'em, tell 'em!! Help! Fiend!" Then, dropping his arm (at which point Thomas was quite happy to run for his dear life for the nearest building possible), she cried after him "City on fiyaaaaa….city on fiyaaa…" And, almost as though she were sneezing out the rest, she screeched "Mischief! Mischief!!"

Backing away, Thomas tried to still his racing heart. He had almost calmed down enough to walk rather than run when-

**"La'ies and ge'elmen! May I have your attention poleeeeease!"**

_Holy Virgin Mary, Sweet Jesus!!_

The sing-song tone of the small boy behind Thomas scared the breath out of him. He backed up against a wall, desperate to escape the insanity. Something crinkled by his left ear and, turning, the country bumpkin tried to make out the words scrawled on the paper that had been behind his head.

Luscious! Succulent! Ambrosial!

**MRS. LOVETT'S**

World Famous  
**MEAT PIES**

"Like Mother Used to Make"

Good Ale Fine Quality

& Pies Meats

--

Upstairs: Sweeney Todd's

**TONSORIAL PARLOR**

"The closest shave you'll ever have"

Well then! Perhaps his luck had finally turned around. One of the many things that Thomas had _intended_ to do upon entering the famous city was treat himself to a shave, something considered a luxury where he came from. And the closest shave ever? Well!! Maybe, just maybe, he could treat himself to a pie…and a shave. And _then_ he'd leave this crazy town for good!

Slipping past the still-singing boy ("Mrs. Lovett's meat poys conjor up the treat poys used to be."), Thomas ducked inside and managed to find himself a spot at a worn, wooden table between a diminished gentleman and a rather large (and not in the vertical direction) laborer. Seeing a cup in front of him, Thomas pulled it to him and glanced at it to see if it was clean. Could be cleaner, but then…there were no other cups!

The lady of the establishment (he had to assume, for she was carrying a rather large tray of pies to a group of drooling customers) noticed him and smiled charmingly. Before Thomas could to more than open his mouth, she had seen the empty cup and frowned. "Toby!" she cried, getting the attention of the boy who had been singing. "Ale there! Quick now!"

Thomas shrunk into his seat as the boy poured a clear liquid into his not-so-clean cup. Thanking the boy, who seemed not to hear, Thomas debated whether or not he should dare to drink out of a stranger's cup. But he _was_ thirsty and the other men were doing it…well, why not?

Gulping the ale, he closed his eyes, breathing in the combination of alcohol and savory meat pies, his hunger stirring. "M-miss," the shy man ventured, his first words in hours, "Perhaps I could have…just one pa-"

But he was not heard above the bustle and noise. Finally, raising his hand just enough that the tired-looking baker saw him, he managed to procure himself one of the so-sought-after Mrs. Lovett's meat pies.

His sharp teeth bit through the golden crust, gravy squirted into his mouth, tickling the roof and setting his taste buds aflame. Drool pooled into the lower regions of his mouth, soaking his gums and mixing with the succulent gravy. Teeth sinking into the tender meat, Thomas found himself thanking God for the treat. A pea popped between his molars and a laugh sprang up from within him as he swallowed the first giant mouthful.

"God, that's good!"

-

Full from the meal, and more than just a little tipsy from the ale that they kept giving him, Thomas lurched to his unsteady feet. His belly weighed heavily with the pies (two and three quarters of a third!), almost uncomfortably. He had been fed, now he wanted to be pampered before leaving this perhaps-not-so-God-forsaken-as-he-had-thought-before-he'd-eaten-the-pie town.

Stumbling towards the stairs that led, he could only assume, to the tonsorial parlor that had been advertised, Thomas raised his shining eyes to the second floor. The sight that greeted him made him stumble at first; the man, who could only be the barber, was scowling so deeply that it sent a chill through his brain to see it. Then, as quickly as one of Mrs. Lovett's pies, it was gone and the man was smiling kindly down at him, beckoning him to come closer. His face was so carefree and welcoming that Thomas could not help ascending the steps towards the man. He thought he heard a woman, possibly the owner of the establishment, make a comment about running out of supplies, but he couldn't care. He had eaten, after all, and now he was going to be pampered by this most gracious man. Life was grand!

"Welcome, sir. I am Sweeney Todd…how may I serve you today?"

Thomas smiled shyly at the man.

"Well, I heard that you give the closest shave that anyone will ever have," he answered softly, entering the man's shop as he did. The door closed behind him as he removed his coat and prepared to take his seat.

It was indeed the closest shave he'd ever had.

* * *

Aaaand Mista' T strikes again!  
But it's okay. I mean, Lovett needs her pies, right? ;  
Oh!! Everyone! You should really read **Morwynn**'s stories if you like mine at all! Hers are pretty sexy…and they're all about Sweeney Todd! In fact, her first chapter of "Sex and Chocolate" _could_ be seen as an in-between scene for my story. She's a friend, so I get to make that claim. XD  
Anyway! I also recommend **hungry-student**'s works. She's awesome.


	7. Baker's Heaven

Hey! I hope you guys enjoy this one! I left a bit of a rant in the end of my AN...sorry about that if it doesn't apply to you. ;;

* * *

Books were all well and nice, but Mrs. Lovett rarely had any time to read them. Having gone most of her life virtually illiterate, Lovett felt this pain dearly. Yet she was willing to sacrifice that small pleasure, among other ones, for the opportunity to spend just a few more minutes in the presence of her barber. And so she gave up her reading period, the hour between the closing of the pie shop and the opening of her bedchamber door. This hour was transformed into a secret, special time when they could sit together in candlelit comfort, talking when they wanted, watching each other when they didn't.

Normally, it was Lovett talking and Sweeny listening distractedly while he cleaned up his shop or pampered his razors. Sometimes, however, they would simply enjoy the atmosphere, quiet and thoughtful.

And Lovett had many things to think about. Occasionally she wondered what it would be like to be one of his razors. He would be kind and gentle with her, using her only when necessary, but always taking care to pamper her before and after the deed, no matter what it was. She would always be with him, always be able to enjoy the warmth of his hand and the gaze of his eyes.

Sometimes she tried to imagine what it would _feel_ like to be one of Mister Todd's razors. She was keenly aware of the way he rubbed his fingers across their smooth surface, how their tips caressed the bodies molded into the silver handles. When he slid the deadly steel edge along his leather sharpening strap, her breath hitched. When his hot breath clouded the surface of his tool as he tried to get rid of an annoying blemish, warmth crept throughout her body. Oh yes, she would love very much to be one of Mister Todd's razors.

But even when she wasn't imagining herself as a cold piece of metal that only came alive when touched by Sweeney's hands –and perhaps she truly wasn't that far off, after all- Mrs. Lovett was happy to content herself to being what she was: a simple woman who cared enough for the man who had been Benjamin Barker to be content to merely bask in the presence of his soul's shadow. The delicate relationship (dare she think of it as a friendship?) that had formed between them endured the days that separated them and the memories that haunted them both.

-

_Swsh-soosh-swsh-soosh-shwsh…_

"Mista' Todd?" Lovett asked, breaking the gentle rhythm of metal over leather.

_Shink!_

"Yes, Mrs. Lovett?" Sweeney answered, his deep voice vibrating through the still room. His eyes did not rise from the glimmering straight razor that he was sharpening, his hand poised elegantly over the strap, head cocked slightly to the side as he awaited her reply.

She wished he would look at her. The candlelight was casting a golden flickering glow across her bosom and her gown was blissfully free of gravy, crust, or any other pie residue. Just in case he decided to glance at her, Lovett leaned forward…all the better to display the generous amount of flesh hanging out of the neckline.

"I was thinkin', Love…" How to go on without angering him? Lovett swallowed nervously and smiled charmingly at his bowed head. "Well, alls I'm sayin' is that it gets a bit 'ard to carry the…meat…back an' forth. P'raps y'could…" Her voice faded off, the request left hanging anonymously between them, leaving the silence that followed uncomfortable and heavy.

Sweeney glanced at her, just a glance but it was enough to give Lovett the courage to voice her desire. "P'raps y' could give me a 'and ev'ry now and then…if it won't get in the way o' your work, o' course." Finally having the words out Lovett blushed but held her ground, her eyes meeting his.

The silence stretched throughout the room, wrapping around Lovett and creeping into her throat, constricting her chest and making it difficult to breathe.

Sweeney lowered his gaze to the blade in his hand. "Yes…yes, of course…"

Lovett's breath escaped her in a shaky laugh of relief. And to think that she had worried about his reaction! Only now he was staring at her again, dark eyes burning holes into her heart. An eyebrow was raised in that sexy way that she loved so much and if the gaze weren't so intimidating Mister Todd would have to clean her up off the floor.

_Oh, Mister Todd…I could eat you up_, Lovett thought to herself, growing warm at her sinful thoughts. Those brown eyes, so soft and yet so harsh, pale skin (white as an unbaked pie…and probably as tasty as her new ones), and soft, beckoning mouth (especially when he was smirking)…! Oh, it was enough to drive even the most prudish of virgins crazy! And Lovett was no virgin, oh no…

She had often thought of asking him, of course. She had dreamt of him often enough, why shouldn't she think of asking him to join her in her sleep and…other…things…? But he had never shown her the slightest interest in that respect. In fact, he seemed to regard her as nothing more than a friend. But she was so much more! Who was there when he needed calming? When he was about to do something foolish or simply didn't know what to do? Lovett was there for him in every area…except the physical. She was still waiting for her new sheets to be broken in. And it wasn't just her; Mister Todd hadn't been seeing _any_ women! It was almost as if he were…

_No! There's no way!_

"M-Mista' Todd!"

That expression on her face… Mrs. Lovett had always been pale, but now she was bordering on corpse-like, her face a shade of green he had only seen amongst the freshest of sailors. He saw her trying to swallow and, with the understanding of an experienced sailor, lunged for the lady, grabbed her with one arm, hurried her to the door, and thrust it open, pushing her outside and into the (somewhat) fresh air. She stood for a minute staring at him strangely (had no one ever told her that it was impolite to stare?) before the green began to vanish and what little color her flesh normally held returned. She smiled nervously and touched his sleeve, looking for all the world as if she were trying to convince herself that he was really there.

"Mrs. Lovett, what has gotten into you?" Sweeney demanded, sounding a bit harsher than he intended but refusing to apologize for it.

"Mista' Todd, tell me one thing!" she begged. "Just one thing and I swear I'll be sa'isfied! I'll even leave y' 'lone for the res' o' the nigh'!"

Surely such a bargain would tempt Satan himself. "What is it, Pet?" Seeing that she didn't melt as usual when he used the endearment, Sweeney's spine straightened. _It must be important indeed to warrant this much seriousness._

"Are you…tha' is…do you…." Mrs. Lovett sighed, stared at her feet, and muttered "Oh, this is foolishness!" but her hand clutched the fabric of his sleeve as if it were the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. Returning her gaze to his (he had always loved the way London was reflected in those eyes…) she opened her mouth and asked him (a silvery glint, a sharp edge…perfect eyes.) "Mista' Todd…y' do like women, don' you?"

Well, how did one answer that sort of thing? Her question was the last that he might have expected. Feeling something (a smirk, possibly…it couldn't be anything more) tug at his mouth, Sweeney tried to quell the emotion bubbling up inside him and instead fixed Mrs. Lovett with one of his most intense glares.

"Mrs. Lovett," he growled, pleased with the resulting sound, "Are you asking me if I like to sleep with other men?"

Mrs. Lovett swallowed (apparently his intimidation skills were working fine) and replied, "No Mista' Todd…I wos asking if y' like t' do mo' than jus' sleep with 'em."

And the emotion that he had been trying to quell shot through him. Sweeney Todd threw back his head and laughed at his poor baker's misery. If he had been able to cry, Sweeney was certain that Mrs. Lovett's remark would have brought tears to his eyes. As it was, he found himself gasping for air and clutching her shoulder. Still smiling, he decided to tease her just a bit more.

"My dear Mrs. Lovett, I eat with men, sleep with men, and do various…activities with men. What exactly are you referring to, hmm?" He wanted to hear her say it. Sweeney wasn't sure why, but he wanted to hear the dirty words on her lips. He was certain she had said worse things, but she seemed to be skirting around the issue. And the issue was, of course, sex.

But she wasn't saying anything. She was simply staring at him, her eyes sad and unsure…perhaps even afraid. But of course she was afraid. Sweeney had noted her interest in him from the first day…it wasn't difficult to decipher the meaning behind her sniffing his hair and rubbing against him whenever she could.

Later, he would wonder just what had brought her to the point of kissing him just then. Later, he would try to retrace their conversation to find what exactly led to it. Later, he would moan into his worn pillow with the memory of his dead wife. But in the moment when she did kiss him, her eyes hard and steely with determination, Sweeney forgot everything about his new life except for the woman in it.

It had been a long time since he had kissed a woman, and Mrs. Lovett seemed to be quite good at it. At first, she simply pressed her warm lips against his cold ones, afraid, perhaps, that he really _was_ interested in men. Then, when he stood frozen with shock instead of pushing her away, she began to move. She pressed her body against his, suckling on his lower lip then tracing his mouth with her pretty little tongue. He felt her hands sliding up his chest and his own drew her closer automatically. What the hell? It _had_ been a long time.

One hand around her waist, Sweeney snaked the other around the back of her neck, pulling her mouth closer. He tilted his head and met Mrs. Lovett's tongue with his own, sliding it down the length of the muscle and into her mouth. She shivered in reply and moaned, stretching on her toes towards him and wrapping one arm around his shoulders for support. The hand that had been on her waist traveled lower, finding her generous bottom and squeezing it. She squealed; he was certain he heard it. And that squeal made him smirk against her mouth. He hadn't touched a woman in years…but he hadn't forgotten how.

His other hand had begun to roam dangerously close to the flesh spilling out of the top of her dress when a noise finally broke through the web of desire that Mrs. Lovett had so skillfully spun for him. Pulling his mouth from hers, Sweeney glanced over her head to glare at the boy who had come up the stairs behind her. By God, perhaps it was time _he_ had a shave!

"Mista' Todd! Mum! D'ye think tha's the bes' place t' be doin' tha'?" Toby gestured towards the street. "Fleet Street _is_ a pre'ey busy street, if y' know wha' I mean." Noticing the dangerous look in the barber's eyes, Toby hurried on, "A-an' I'd 'ate t' scare away your cus'mers, sir!"

Mrs. Lovett sighed, the movement traveling through Sweeney's body (that was still molded to hers oh-so-nicely), nearly undoing the restraint that he had built while listening to Toby speak. Grabbing her arms, Sweeney pushed Mrs. Lovett gently away from him. He would have loved to…still would love to…! But the boy was right and the reminder had returned Sweeney's wits to him. There was a reason why he hadn't slept with a woman since Lu-…his wife. It was in memory of her. And he would not dishonor her by sleeping with a woman who knew her so well.

"I apologize for my behavior, Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney whispered, his mind already elsewhere. Her expression was heartbreaking…but then you had to have a heart to really be affected by it, he supposed. And his had died with his wife.

Turning away from her, Sweeney reentered his shop, shutting Mrs. Lovett and the rest of the world out. He had all he needed right here.

But then…why did he feel so…lonely?

* * *

**AN**: Aww…I really don't know who to feel more sorry for! Sorry this chapter took so long to post. I don't have Internet at the apartment (although my downstairs neighbor does…wish he'd give me the password!). I also got a bit of writer's block towards the middle (before it started getting good wink). I had nuuuuuu idea of where to go here. I just know where I want to end up. Honestly, I just make a decent outline and then let the characters do as they will so long as they follow it.

**-Warning: RANT!-**

Ahh, yes…some people have been giving me grief (none of you, I'm sure 3) over the fact that this fanfic is an AWEFUL LOT like the movie. Well, I suppose the only thing I have to say about that it FOOEY ON YOU! :P Of _course_ this fanfic is a lot like the movie! The whole point of this fanfic is to show how much change can come from just a little thing. I'm going to be changing more things (obviously) to get my ending, but they're all going to be decently small things. But if you're only changing small things you can't expect the fanfiction to be too different from the movie in the beginning. I also don't like fics where the characters are immediately OOC. I like to make it believable. And by-golly, if there's an earthquake in the original, you can **bloody well BET** there'll be an earthquake in my fic!! (I realize that there are no earthquakes in Sweeney Todd…just appreciate the image that it produces.)


	8. And He was Beautiful

Mister Todd was definitely _not_ interested in men. Or if he was, Lovett mused, at least he still craved women as well. Reliving the kiss he had given her again, the baker sank onto her couch, knees weak. And to think that those razors had been stealing all of his attention for so long! Lovett would make her own appointment with the barber if he would only hold her like that again.

And she just might have to! Mister T had been avoiding her lately. It wasn't as if the kiss had been bad…had it? Shivering, Lovett laughed shakily and tried to assure herself that had Toby not interrupted them, they would have…have…

"Rumpled my sheets," she whispered, giggling girlishly at her silliness. And if not for that little urchin..! Lovett had never regretted her decision to keep Toby around until he broke up her moment with Mister Todd two days ago. She had been working him hard ever since then as punishment. She'd been working harder as well…all the better to take her mind off things that she couldn't have.

For now, anyway.

Lovett could understand that a man needed to mourn his wife's death. And to be fair he hadn't really known that Luc-that woman was dead until after he had arrived back in London. But it was one thing to mourn; it was quite another to sulk, and that was exactly what Mister Todd was doing. And Lovett had had enough of it! She was alive; she was a woman; and she was here. And he wanted her! She was sure of it! Sweeney Todd wanted the baker just as much as she wanted him! So why was he avoiding her now?

Lucy.

Crinkling her nose at the memory of the spoiled, stupid woman, Lovett stood. There had to be some way around the woman who haunted the barber's mind and heart. Perhaps she should have a talk with him about it. But then perhaps not. Lord only knew what would happen if Sweeney Todd found out about the night Lucy poisoned herself.

_It isn't right for you to hide it._

_But she changed! Lucy Barker is dead!_

Yes, dead. There was no other word for it. But it didn't help that Lovett had provided a bottle of poison instead of a comforting shoulder.

_Well, we women do what we have to for love._

And did she regret it? Not for a moment! What would have happened if Mr. Barker had returned to find his wife waiting for him? Lovett would have been pushed to the side once again, the other woman forever hiding in the shadows. Now she was his care-taker, his friend. And perhaps, if she were lucky, his soon-to-be lover. Lovett smiled wickedly and rolled over, breathing deeply into her pillow as if it were Benjamin's hair. Or his neck. Oh, God! To smell that man again! To have him that close to her…

Lovett moaned, aching, wanting.

What did one do at a time like this? Well, there were…things, of course. Lovett calculated the amount of time she had before someone bothered her as well as the probability of having Toby (she certainly wouldn't mind if it was Mister Todd…all the better!) barge in on her. Having decided that it was definitely worth the risk, Lovett sighed and closed her eyes, picturing the face and frame that she knew by heart.

-

"So what is that woman up to?"

Sweeney could feel Toby's eyes scorching the back of his finely-groomed head, but he couldn't care less. He wouldn't have even bothered asking the boy if not for the fact that he had been trying rather hard to make himself scarce around the lovely lady (hah, Lovett a lady…).

The boy allowed the silence to stretch until Sweeney glanced at him with an eyebrow raised. The lad's eyes were harsh and judging. "She's a real layday. I don' wan' to see 'er 'urt, Mis'ur Todd."

Fighting back a smile, the barber pasted on a harsh glare. The lad's concern for his benefactor was touching. As was the idea that she needed protecting from _him_.

"I very much doubt that our dear Mrs. Lovett would allow herself to be hurt by anyone, boy."

The boy's answer was immediate as it was sharp. "You ain't 'anyone', Mis'ur Todd. I've seen th' way she looks a' you." Narrowing his eyes, Toby looked Sweeney up and down. "Sh' loves you…though I can't see why."

Would a chuckle frighten the boy?

"I remember a time when children were more respectful to those who provide for them," Sweeney replied instead, hoping to end the conversation. Honestly, he couldn't even remember why he had decided to talk to Toby in the first place. Not surprisingly, the boy refused to back down. Shoulders dropping slightly, the orphan's glare hardened.

"Wos i' when men dinna treat laydays like common whores?" he spat, turning to leave without waiting for an answer.

Sweeney's eyes widened. Who knew that the lad had such a dark temper? He could certainly be fierce when the honor of Mrs. Lovett was at stake. _Honor? Mrs. Lovett?_ Again, the barber had to suppress a chuckle. My, but he was in a good mood today. And he hadn't even killed anyone yet.

The creaking of the door as it closed plunged Sweeney back into the present. Had he just allowed the boy to leave with the last word? Bristling, he decided that he'd had enough of this silliness. He was going to get to the root of his problems, find the cause of his day-dreaming and general cheerfulness.

He was going to kill Mrs. Lovett.

-

Not literally, of course, Sweeney decided later. The woman was far too good a cook. Taking another bite of savory steak, he studied the woman from across the table. Obscured as she was by the light of the candle that separated them (another of the scheming woman's attempts to seduce him?), Mrs. Lovett seemed to glow with a deceptively innocent light. Sensing his gaze, she looked up from her plate to smile prettily at him, batting her thick eyelashes in an attempt at beguiling.

She tried too hard, in Sweeney's opinion. Everything about Mrs. Lovett screamed 'sex' in the most obvious of ways. Her attempts at accenting her sexuality only served to cheapen it. Not like Lucy…

"Mister Todd?"

He raised a brow. To do more would be to make an effort and that would only encourage her.

"I as'ed if you would p'fer somethin' different next time." She cocked her head slightly and raised her own eyebrows.

"Something different?"

"P'raps a pie, lov?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mirth but her face as cold as marble. "I could always go ge' y' one."

The tease, casually as it was delivered, took a moment to sink in. Had she just offered him a bit of the person he'd killed this afternoon? And in such a manner that Toby, sitting beside her, was oblivious to the fact? He brushed aside his shock and grinned at her.

"My pet, you are truly a remarkable woman."

Straightening in her seat and ruffling her skirts, she turned her attention back to her food. "I know, lov."

-

Speaking in such a way to Mister T was dangerous if he was in a bad mood, but Lovett couldn't care less. The 'chat' that Toby had had with her (God bless the little angel) had opened her eyes. He had said that Mister Todd didn't love her – well, she knew that…not like he'd loved that other woman, anyway. And she could live with being the second woman. However, it was when he pointed out that the man who held her heart didn't even respect her that Lovett realized the root of her problems. Just as Toby had said, he didn't respect her. For years she had asked herself what Lucy had that she didn't. And Toby, blessed lad that he was, had handed her the answer. Mr. Barker had respected his wife; he held no such sentiments towards his landlady. She would simply have to fix that.

The moment that stood out most in her mind as one that was particularly theirs (other than the kiss they'd shared) was when she had the idea to cook his victims. The way he had looked at her while bantering back and forth about future customers could only be described as adoring. In that moment she had been something more to him than a simple friend or landlady; she was a companion. And that was exactly what she wanted to be…his companion for life.

So she would just have to be clever for him for a little while. It wasn't that hard, after all. Little comments here and there…and perhaps at some point she could try to mention his name…his real name…

_Benjamin Barker._

* * *

_AN: Aaand that's it for now. Sorry that it's coming along so slowly, but it's hard to write a decent fanfiction when you're always babysitting. I'm going to go ahead and start writing the next chapter, but I dunno when I'll finish. T-T_

_Oh, but if it's done by the time I get to post this chapter (still don't have internet sniffles) then I'll post that one too. I just feel like it's time to start a new chapter. /ok_


	9. Hush, Love

I do not own them...but damn if I did.

* * *

She'd changed.

Mrs. Lovett had gone from an alluring, dramatic, love-crazed (there being no other word for it) woman to a teasing, quick-thinking, intelligent female. And she was more…modest. It wasn't as though she had become a prude (no, those necklines were just as low as ever), but she had ceased her useless flirting and obvious advances. They still spent as much time together as they had before their…moment. But now the time was spent in actual conversation (and not the kind where she talked and he grunted).

And, oddly enough, he found her more attractive after her sudden change than he had before when she flaunted her beauty.

And he wanted her more, a realization which was shocking in itself. Sweeney had thought that he had killed that part of him forever, the part which felt and desired. Certainly he had felt a flash of lust the night that he'd kissed her, but that was different than the desire that he felt now. Lust was an understandable reaction to two bodies being very close. Desire, however, was capable of being felt from afar and thus was more dangerous. Lust could be squashed by distraction; desire _was_ a distraction.

Was it worse when she was there or not? Sweeney wasn't sure. When she was with him, he could smell her, hear her, and see her; when she wasn't near, however, he could taste and feel her through the memory of that night and the embrace they had shared.

The tinkling of the little bell above the door drove Sweeney's thoughts out of his head as he pasted a mild smile on his face and turned to greet his customer. The man, a thin creature wearing an immaculate white shirt (a rarity in the city), plain, brown pants, and an enormous crushed velvet hat, had already thrown his long coat onto Sweeney's chest and was making his way towards the chair.

"I sh'd like t' 'ave a shave, gov'nuh," he instructed, settling himself in the chair. "And p'raps a bi' of a trim o' the 'air 'round me neck." Peering at the barber he added, "And no nicks on me face, 'ear?"

"I promise, sir," Todd answered, ducking to hide the grin that he knew he couldn't prevent from spreading across his face. He would take special care to prevent any 'nicks' on this gent's chin.

As he scraped his razor lovingly across the leather strap that hung from the chair, Sweeney's expression relaxed into one of love and worship. When he had begun killing it had been out of necessity; to defend himself from other prisoners, to escape the island he'd been exiled to, and to keep his secret from leaking out once he'd gotten back to land. Now, however, he killed for the sheer pleasure of it. He lived by the razor, worshiped the thrill that came from slicing through flesh and bathing in the blood of the vile Londoners. And Mrs. Lovett had been right about waiting; the anticipation of the kill as he carefully caressed their skin with his cold steel sent shivers through his soul.

It was better than sex with a beautiful woman. A beautiful, pale woman. A beautiful pale woman whose voluptuous body could drive a man wild. Even if the white dust that gathered on her elaborate gowns looked suspiciously like flour from pies. A woman with a mouth that could slather compliments like sugar or scald like meat straight from the fire. Sweeney ran his index finger along the flat edge of the razor, envisioning the smooth flesh of a woman's bosom…._his_ woman's bosom.

Sighing, Sweeney swept the blade across the customer's chin once then paused. It felt wrong to be scraping a stranger's face with a tool that only moments before had given him visions of his woman's flesh. He would not dirty the image with this man's appearance. Instead, he made a quick job of the man's neck and life, taking care not to damage his face.

And then he had a thought. Just a small one, mind. An idea that wouldn't possibly hurt anything…the man was dead, after all. Leaning closer to the corpse, Sweeney slowly brushed the bloody razor down its cheek in one smooth motion. He repeated the motion, this time at an angle so that the corpse was left with a bloody, and quite jagged, L on its left cheek. So much for 'nicks'.

Although it was immature and quite tacky, Sweeney could not prevent himself from giving the corpse a little wave as he pushed the lever that sent it down the black hole in the floor...and into the mouths of its fellow Londoners.

-

It was like her own little hell. A hell where there was nothing to do but butcher, stoke the fire, and bake. And, of course, there was plenty of time to think. Picturing pleasant things was the only way that Lovett knew of to take her mind off of the horrible reality of what they did…of what she had suggested that they do.

_But it was all for Mr. Barker. He needed this..._

And she had to give him something for what she had taken. To be sure, it wasn't her who had destroyed Lucy Barker, but she certainly hadn't tried very _hard_ to convince the woman not to take the poison. She'd even given her the vial! There was nothing she could do to make up for her dark deed but provide the means for Mr. Barker to forget about it.

With a violent thud a body fell to the floor beside her. A relief, she supposed, for the "meat" was getting rather low. Business must be bad for Mister Todd today…that or he was distracted.

"Maybe 'e's just 'appy t'day," she mused. That thought caused her to chuckle as she went on with her gruesome business, dragging the corpse across the floor to the meat grinder.

Then she froze. Its face was bloody. Certainly she saw a great amount of blood…on shirts, throats (God, always blood there!), and flooding the floor. But rarely was there much blood on their faces. True to his reputation, the man who had been Benjamin Barker, the famous barber of Fleet Street, gave a smooth, clean shave and without any cuts or nicks.

So why the bloody face? Lovett kneeled closer, brushing the man's hair aside. All the blood…it was such a large cut! Straightening, Lovett considered leaving it alone…but if something was bothering Mister Todd she wanted to know how badly upset he was. She knelt again, tore a piece of cloth from its shirt, and began wiping away at the face. What she found was a large, jagged cut…quite intentional, but from the man's expression he hadn't suffered before he'd died. So had Mister T done this after killing him? Why would he do such a-

She gasped.

"Oooh, Mister T…" It was so gory…so gruesome and disgusting…

It was so romantic.

-

She had been patient and straitlaced for long enough. The time had come to be bold again…but in a different way. Lovett left the corpse – she'd deal with it later – and ascended the steps to the damp outside. The skies were dark and she took a moment to breathe. The first few drops were small and cool…only sprinkles, really. She lifted her head to the cloudy sky and hoped (she had never really been one for praying) that she would not destroy their relationship by what she was about to do.

_He never did that for Lucy._

And with that thought, that assurance, she ascended the stairs to the former residence of the Barkers. At the door, she froze. Of course he had never done that for Lucy…pure, white, innocent Lucy… he would never taint her memory with anything as dark and foul as the blood of a stranger. But as for Lovett…she was just the woman who aided him in his foul business. Of course he would consider her deserving of _that kind_ of attention. Was that how he thought of her? Was that all he thought of her?

Clenching her fist, Lovett let out a strangled cry. She was willing to take whatever she could get…she loved him…

…but he didn't love her…

And perhaps he never would. He was an unstable lunatic, a man who had lost his family, everything he had. But he refused to move on. She knew that she would always love him and stand by him, but…but…

She did not want to be used!

Straightening her back, Mrs. Lovett realized that she was experiencing a moment that could change her life. Did she want to be used by Sweeney Todd or did she want to be loved by Benjamin Barker? Stupid question, really. So what was there to do? How did she tell this man who she had helped to create that she wanted the man who he had once been? Shivering, Lovett realized that there were only two ways to revert Sweeney Todd back to Benjamin Barker: either by the death of the judge (and there was no real guarantee there) or by the revival of Lucy Barker.

And she could not bear to lose him again to that woman.

Not mention that there was no real way (that _she_ was aware of) to bring back the woman that had been Mrs. Barker. Besides, that creature hated her...

What to do?

"I got t' think o' Benja-…Mister Todd," she whispered. What did he need? What was best for him? Then, with confidence, she assured herself "Lucy Barker is dead. I got t' 'elp Mr. Barker move on." And so she would.

With new resolve, Mrs. Lovett turned the handle of Sweeney Todd's door and entered his emporium.

-

Standing by the window, always watching, always waiting, Sweeney Todd saw Mrs. Lovett leave the pie shop moments after he sent down the corpse. He saw her turn towards his rooms and heard her ascending the stairs. But then he heard nothing. From his window (and he wasn't going to leave that spot because _that_ would mean that he cared) he could not see the woman. It was all very vexing. Benjamin Barker was a relatively patient man (he was a barber, after all), but Sweeney Todd did _not like to wait_. And here was this mere woman making him wait and wonder why she was not entering or even knocking…not that he expected her to knock...Lovett never did things like that.

Then the rain started and his anger grew with every second. Was she standing out there? Was she still there? Had he missed hearing her go back down the stairs?

_**What in bloody hell was going on?!**_

But he would _not_ go to that door! If she was still waiting out there, he didn't want to give her the wrong idea. And why would she be waiting out in the rain? What could be keeping her?

Then a horrible thought struck him: What if she weren't alone out there? What if someone had…done…something…?

What if she had liked it?

That was it, he was going out there.

He took three steps towards the door then paused. What if that was what she wanted? God, women were so complicated!! He was only a step away from the door...perhaps if he listened he could hear her. Leaning in, Sweeney held his breath and listened…and heard…

The doorknob turning.

Jumping back just as the door swung open, the barber narrowly avoided having his nose smashed against the door that Mrs. Lovett so enthusiastically threw open. Caught, or at least feeling as though he had been, Sweeney felt his face warm (but he was _not_ blushing!). He deepened his scowl in an effort to hide the not-a-blush and glared at the woman. Really, what did she think she was doing?

And did she realize just how wet she was? That gown was clinging to her body like a barnacle to a ship's belly. Ignoring her wet (and cold from the looks of it) state, Mrs. Lovett took two steps towards Sweeney and shut the door behind her.

"Love," she began, sounding faintly out-of-breath from what he supposed could only be excitement (she'd had plenty of time to rest from climbing up those stairs!). "I just…I wanted t'…you…." Sighing, she started again. "I know tha' you don't love me…at least, no' the way I want you to." She moved closer until their bodies were almost touching and Sweeney could feel the wet heat radiating from her. "But you must know tha' I love you…more than anything else." Touching his arm, she continued breathlessly, "And I'll always do whatever you ask o' me."

_What brought this on?_

And what exactly did she want? "Mrs. Lovett-" Whatever he was going to say was cut short by the wet, warm lips of the woman before him. She slipped her arms around his neck and he responded by grasping her waist. Her mouth was moving, her teeth nibbling, her tongue prodding.

Not one to allow anyone else to be in control, Sweeney opened his mouth and thrust his tongue into hers, sliding it along hers until she moaned. He allowed his hands to roam, one up her body and one down it, until he had a handful of her generous bosom and bottom. His mouth left hers to graze her jaw line until he reached her beautiful throat. Kissing, nibbling, and suckling on the tender, and so vulnerable, flesh there, Sweeney smiled as he felt her hands move down his body, untucking his shirt and sliding her hands up his stomach, across his ribs, and around to his back where her nails dug into his flesh.

Leaving her throat long enough to nibble on her ear, he grinned (_two can play at that game_), and slipped his hand into her dress as his other began sliding her skirt slowly up. She moaned when he began caressing her breast, completely unaware of her quickly shortening skirt. He pinched her nipple lightly and she gasped, digging her fingers in deeper and moving them slowly down his back. Sweeney shivered from the feel of her claws causing sensations he hadn't felt in years. His mouth released her ear and she immediately stood on her toes to reach his neck where she proceeded to return the favor by first licking, then capturing his skin between her teeth. His hand left her breast and slipped under her now much shorter skirt, grasping her bum and lifting her against him. She parted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, raking her sharp little teeth across his neck as she did.

God, he felt so _hot_! She was burning him as surely as she did her meat pies! Growling, Sweeney grasped her bum harder and ground his hips into her. How long had it been since he'd had a woman? _Too long_.

Her lips were on his again, her tongue brushing against his teeth. He allowed her access and was shocked at the desperation with which she plunged into his mouth. She was making little noises and, with a shock, he realized he was as well. He wanted her. Here. Now.

Breaking the kiss, Sweeney's eyes swept the room. The pitiful bed that he used would not hold the weight of two people. But the chair…

Adjusting his hold on the woman who looked quite displeased at the interruption, the barber carried her to the chair and plopped her down in it. Before she could complain or voice any doubts, he had his lips back on hers, crushing, bruising.

A part of him wanted to be slow and tender, but another part (the part he supposed was the new him) wanted to ravish her, to hurt her while giving her the most exquisite pleasure imaginable. The two halves warred within him, guiding his hands to gently explore while his mouth ruthlessly claimed.

Then he felt her hands on the buckle of the contraption that he kept his razors in and he froze. If she disarmed him… If he couldn't defend himself… If that man came again while he was like this…

With a clunk the leather and metal fell to the floor. And with it his feeling of protection. He was now completely vulnerable to this woman. Not an altogether unpleasant feeling, to be sure.

She was working on the buttons on his vest. One, two three, and off it went. When she began unbuttoning his shirt, Sweeney snapped out of his stupor and realized that while this woman was working on removing his third article of clothing, he had not managed to rid her of any of hers. With a grin, Sweeney decided that he would just have to catch up to the dear Mrs. Lovett.

…that was if he could find out where the damn strings (or snaps) to her gown were! There was a small bow on the neckline, but that couldn't be the thing holding the entire gown together. Seeing his trouble, Mrs. Lovett leaned forward until her soft breasts were crushed against his chest.

"In the back, Love," she whispered hurriedly.

Allowing his hands to snake along her ribs, breasts (had to make a detour), and finally to her back, Sweeney kissed her cheek tenderly and heard her gasp. Dotting her beautifully pale skin with warm, tender kisses, he began to work on the first of the (ahh, of course) hooks that held the dress up.

-

Was any woman so happy as Lovett in the moment that he kissed her cheek? He was delicate and gentle and tender…just the way she'd always imagined it would be with Benjamin Barker. Sweeney Todd she knew saw her as an object to satisfy himself with…but perhaps Barker was still alive and saw her as something more. Why else would he kiss her so sweetly? She felt him fumble with the hooks on her gown and smiled, wrapping her arms around his lean frame contentedly. She held him until she felt her bodice loosen and her sleeves begin to droop. Leaning back as his hands moved to her arms, Lovett loosened her hold on the man long enough to allow him to slide her sleeves down her arms. Then, as he began to divest her of her very many annoying (and tight!) pieces of clothing, she returned to his shirt, hungry for the sight of his flesh.

When the last button was undone, Sweeney began to remove the shirt, but Lovett stopped him with a light smack. After all, she had done the work and she wanted the benefit of being the one to remove it! Sliding her hands slowly up the flesh of his abdomen (she giggled inwardly at the sight of his pants…so close to her hands!) and over his chest to his shoulders where she captured the cloth and slid it down his arms. With an impish giggle, Lovett leaned into him and licked his stomach, just above the hem of his pants.

He jumped. "Woman," he ground out, "Don't tease unless you're prepared to face the consequences."

"And what would those be, Love?" she asked sweetly just before placing her mouth where her tongue had been. She sucked on the skin, moving her tongue across it, sometimes pressing, sometimes just sliding it across the slick surface of his now-wet skin.

With something alarmingly like a growl, Mister Todd broke away from her and grabbed something from the floor. _A razor_, she realized with wide eyes. He flipped it open and held it against her throat.

"I warned you, Pet."

And with those words and a gleam in his eyes, Sweeney Todd sliced right through Mrs. Lovett's brand new dress, bodice, and undergarments. She sat there, in her dead husband's chair, with her dress hanging off of her in shreds and her mouth open in shock before the greatest barber on Fleet Street and love of her life.

_He's insane!!_

"Mister T! Tha' was my-"

He silenced her with a kiss, thrusting into her mouth brutally, mercilessly. The razors seemed to bring out the animal in him, Lovett thought in a daze. Then his free hand grasped her breast and squeezed and she realized that she was now, ignoring the shreds of fabric, completely naked. And he still had his pants on.

Careful to avoid the razor, Lovett pressed herself against him and fumbled for the opening of his pants. She was tired of waiting; she wanted him _now_!

So intent was she on liberating him from his pants, she didn't notice his straying hand until it brushed across her thigh. He wasted no time and Lovett was soon moaning as he slipped a finger inside of her, tracing the shape of her, exploring the woman before him shamelessly. When his finger rubbed against her flesh in just the right spot, she bit her lip, whimpering. She had forgotten about his pants and was instead gripping the armrests of the chair desperately. He began moving in a rhythm, steadily across her swollen flesh. Then he shifted his hand and suddenly Lovett was in heaven as his thumb rubbed against her and his finger plunged into her. Arching her hips at him, she turned her head and closed her eyes against the rush of pleasure.

They shot back open when his mouth closed over one of her breasts, sucking harshly and making her cry out. "M-Mister-!" Her stomach tensed up and she let go of the chair long enough to grasp his muscled arms tightly. She was panting, she was an animal, and she _wanted him_.

With a frustrated growl, she returned her hands to his pants, pulling on them with something not unlike desperation. "Don't y' tease me," she moaned. "Come on, now..!"

He chuckled into her skin and flicked his tongue across her nipple. There was a clunk as he dropped the razor and moved to help her, never lifting his hand from where it worked between her legs. When his pants fell to his ankles, Lovett tried to pull her mind away from the waves of pleasure long enough to take in the moment. He was rather large. Albert had been bigger, but Albert could have _eaten_ Sweeney in the last days he was so massive. And perhaps this man would not hurt so much.

But his hands were moving with new energy and Lovett could not think anymore. Feeling somewhat spoiled, however, she allowed her hands to slide back up his legs, caressing and enjoying the feel of him. They drifted close to his now _very_ apparent sign of desire and she grinned through clenched teeth as another wave caused her to shiver.

"Lovett," he warned. Her name was so sweet on his lips. "Watch-" She gave him a little jerk and his entire body responded, shuddering.

"Now," she whispered to him, moving her own hand in time with his.

"Are y'-"

She quickened her pace and glared at him. "Sweeney Todd, you 'ad better get t' doin' what you plan on doin'."

He laughed and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. His hand stopped for a moment, but Lovett's moved even faster. He paused and let out a broken breath. "If you don't stop that," he panted and gave her an evil little smile "we won't be doing what I'm planning on doing."

She slowed obligingly, but refused to stop her motions completely until Sweeney pulled them too close to allow such free movement. His trapped hand grabbed hers and, with a gentleness that warmed her heart, pulled it up to his shoulder. She was suddenly lifted and his hands were under her bum, supporting her as he pressed himself into her.

It had been so long since she'd gotten to feel a man inside her! Lovett moaned and tightened her grip on his shoulder, gripping into his flesh with both hands as he began to slide out of her. Then he thrust again, his body flush against hers. Slowly, achingly so, he pulled out and paused.

Lovett huffed impatiently. Was the man going to get on with it or just sit there all evening?

Then, with a growl that sent shivers throughout her body, he began to slam into her violently. Wincing at the force but delighting at the friction, Lovett pushed her hips towards his, meeting his thrusts. Slipping a hand around to her front, Sweeney squeezed a breast, toying with the nipple and making the woman before him moan with pleasure. She felt his mouth on her throat, suckling at the sensitive skin there before moving across her jaw and to her ear. When his tongue stroked her hot flesh as he thrust furiously into her, one hand clutching her bum, the other pinching a nipple, Lovett bit her lip and closed her eyes against the pressure that was building. Her stomach clenched again and she was digging her nails into her lover's skin but she didn't care. She couldn't think of anything but his mouth, his hands, his pounding, thrusting rod…

"M-…S-Sweeney…I…!"

He grunted, his breath warming her ear. It was all too much! She had him – he had her – she was going to explode with pleasure!

And then she did, wave after wave shaking her body, covering her with a layer of hot sweat as she cried out his name. Whimpering as she drifted back into awareness, she felt him freeze and then her insides warm with his own release.

He held her for a moment longer then lowered her gently back into the seat, pulling himself back out of her as he did. Lovett shivered, cold after having lost his warmth. The sweat that dampened her naked flesh increased her discomfort. But she would not have traded this feeling for anything. This was what the aftermath of lovemaking was like with Sweeney Todd.

...who was looking at her very strangely indeed.

She straightened in the chair and met his mysterious gaze with her uncertain one. "What's wrong?" Suddenly a horrible thought took hold. "W-was I not…I mean, did y' not like me? I know tha' I'm no' the most attractive woman…or the youngest, bu'-"

He broke their gaze and reached for his pants, pulling them back up and securing them. Ice dropped into the pit of Lovett's stomach. He wasn't answering. But he had-! Surely he had enjoyed her! She had the evidence inside of her!

Standing, she placed a hand on his arm as he reached for his shirt. She tried to peer into his eyes, but he refused to look at her. Anger quickly followed the fear and she felt the ice melt and boil. If he had a problem he could at least _tell_ her about it, couldn't he? Why was he giving her the cold shoulder? Why was he being so distant to the woman he had just had sex with?!

"Mister T!" Lovett straightened and glared at him, pleased to see that he did finally look at her. "If y' 'ave a problem wit' me, I think I deserve t' know 'bout it." Softening, she stepped close to him and placed a hand on his cheek. "Love…you know 'ow I feel abou' you. What's botherin' you?"

Sadness, that was the emotion that he had been hiding from her. His hand cupped hers, drawing it away from him with an expression of such pain that Lovett felt her heart break just a bit.

"Mrs. Lovett…when you cried out, you called me Benjamin."

* * *

Sorry that it took me so long to post. I've had this written for weeks. And thanks for the warning about that certain word, Morwynn!

* * *


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